


Retrograde

by malignantillustrator (Vaud)



Series: Broken Promises For Broken Hearts [2]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon Retelling, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaud/pseuds/malignantillustrator
Summary: Sam disappears once Avery's Cross is located, and while Rafe wants to trust him, Nadine is hard at work driving a wedge between them. Canon retelling of Uncharted 4, with lots of angst and fluff thrown in for good measure. Hold on to your butts!





	1. Chapter 1

Rafe awoke shivering, curled in on himself. Slowly, he rolled over and reached for Sam. Then stretched his arm out from the warmth and comfort of the duvet to hunt him across the mattress. Sometimes a king was too big. Still not finding his lover, he pushed himself up and scanned first the bed and then the room. Empty.  
  
His eyes flicked to the en-suite. "Samuel?" He called, voice thick and deep with the remnants of sleep. Silence. Maybe he's making breakfast, Rafe thought and climbed out of bed, stomach growling. He took a quick shower and wrapped up in his thick robe, before heading downstairs.  
  
The house was still and quiet, and there wasn't any smell of food in the air. "Samuel?" He called, louder, this time, so that his voice echoed off the concrete and glass walls. Nothing. He padded, barefoot to the windows and peered out, for any sign that Sam was having a cigarette or something, but there were no footprints in the fresh snow. None.  
  
He walked the entire house, checking every room, closet, and even large cupboards, as silly as that seemed. But Samuel had to be here somewhere. He crept to the guest bedroom last. Sam hadn't used it in ages, and there was little reason for him to go in there and yet... It, too, was vacant.  
  
It was disorienting, waking up alone for the first time in at least ten months. Finding his house empty. Where had Sam gone? Shopping perhaps, or on an errand. But why wouldn't he have waited for or woken Rafe? He had to be up to something.  
  
Rafe scoffed, shaking his head, as he went down to make himself some coffee. There were things to do today. Nadine was coming by to discuss the Italy trip, and he needed to be prepared for that, lest the woman barrel over him like she was often trying to do.  
  
Rafe picked at a breakfast, ruminating over the possibilities Sam had in store for him, then went upstairs and dressed. Nadine was always prompt and he expected her soon. He made it into his office, with the fireplace crackling to chase the chill that seemed just a bit more biting without Sam here, settled in at the desk, with the appropriate intel spread before him when he heard the  front door open.  
  
His heart skipped a beat and he rose from his desk. "Samuel?" He called.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Nadine Ross was a woman of action, rather than politics. She far preferred a good brawl to bandying words. And while this particular job was not her style in the least, it afforded her something she desperately needed: hope. Since losing her father, and having the responsibility--and considerable debt--of Shoreline settle on her shoulders, it had been one struggle after another just to stay afloat. And not the kind of struggle she was good at, either.  
  
Until she'd been contacted by Rafe Adler, that is. He had the funds to make this venture worth her while, and if things panned out like he insisted they would, Shoreline would be set for her lifetime, at least, if not indefinitely. Point being, she needed to see this through. Everything counted on it; Her business, her livelihood, her future, all at stake.  
  
Initially, she'd found Rafe easy enough to work with. He had the sort of personality that bowed well under the sort of pressure she long ago learned to apply, as a woman in this line of work. The sort that not only put men in their place, but ensured that they were willing to accede to her command. A glossy surface hiding a deep flaw that would crack just so under pressure...  
  
That was, until Drake came into the picture. Rafe was no longer so pliable with him around. She had to work to unclench her jaw at the very thought of the man, a two bit swindler by her estimation, but one who'd managed to wrap Adler around his finger. He wanted to cash in on the big prize as much as the rest of them. So imagine her surprise and delight when the report came in that Drake had stolen away in the night.  
  
She had no earthly idea why he would be so stupid as to just hand Adler back over to her on a silver platter, but she was practically giddy at the prospect of progress once more.  
  
She didn't bother knocking as she entered the house, for her men assured her that Rafe was here and alone.  
  
"Samuel?" His voice sounded thready, desperate maybe even. It made her lip curl just a bit as she started down the hall to Rafe's office. Of course, she forced a more genial smile before she rounded the door jam and planted herself just inside his office. "Sorry to disappoint," she said with her toothsome expression, eyes hard and calculating. She had no intention of sounding at all sorry.  
  
Rafe's mask slipped into place and he dropped back into his seat. "Nadine," he greeted mildly.  
  
"Hi, Rafe." She came to the desk and settled her gloved hands on her hips. "I take it you were expecting Drake?" She pressed, and Rafe sighed.  
  
"Why, have you seen him?"  
  
"My men reported him leaving last night, about oh-two-hundred hours. I assumed you were aware." She was watching him closely.  
  
  
  
  
  
Rafe paused for a moment, staring unseeing at the documents on his desk, trying to wrap his mind around what she'd just said. It was like she'd spoken gibberish. Samuel left in the middle of the night? Why? Slowly, he lifted his eyes to her face again.  
  
She was smiling, snakelike, and scoffed when he met her eyes, shaking her head like he was the saddest thing she'd laid eyes on. Rafe smothered a flash of white hot anger--something he hadn't experienced in ages--and changed the subject.  
  
"So the cross," he stressed, "will be present at the auction at the Rossi Estate on the twelfth of next month."  
  
"I don't think it should be," Nadine said with a shake of the head. "We should take it from its origin point. The, ah," she reached out and turned a page on the desk toward her, "Trott Estate. Virginia, mmn. Easy enough."  
  
"No," Rafe answered firmly, "we'll take it at the auction. It's cleaner, that way."  
  
Nadine scoffed and turned half away, folding her arms. "Rafe, there's a chance you could lose it to a competitor."  
  
"You think I'm going to be outbid?" He laughed incredulously, earning a sharp glare from her.  
  
"I think this is a bad move." She turned and planted her hands on the desk, leaning over it to glower at him like some kind of bully. Rafe fought the urge to lean back in his seat, meeting her stare flatly. "Let me take the cross before it ever arrives in Italy," Nadine continued. "You know exactly what will happen if we don't move immediately. Drake is probably on his way to Virginia as we speak!"  
  
Rafe tensed, struggling to keep his temper in check. "No, he's not," he answered as coolly as he could. "We're acquiring the cross at the auction, and not a moment before. End of discussion."  
  
He watched as her nostrils flared, and her eyes tried to pierce his skull, managing a perfectly feigned boredom in the face of her irate glare. Then she flashed him a smile, cocking her head as if she knew something he didn't. "Alright, then." Nadine turned on her heel and left, and Rafe sagged back in his chair.  
  
  
  
  
  
_In the summer, they took a trip to Miami. The heat was sweltering, but Samuel insisted on being outdoors at all times. Rafe found him washing his cars under a harsh sun in the circle drive one day. Skin bronzing nicely, tank top clinging to his muscular back with sweat and spray from the hose, shorts both hugging and hanging off his ass. Samuel looked fine indeed, but Rafe didn't understand his choice of activity._  
  
_"This is stupid. I pay people to do this, you know," he'd said, and Sam only chuckled and shook his head. Rafe watched as he almost lovingly massaged a chamois over the hood of his '69 Charger._  
  
_"Don't listen to him, babygirl," Sam practically purred, leaning down toward the vehicle. "He doesn't understand what we got goin' on here. Mmm yeah, yer so fine. A real classic lady, and I bet you got somethin' real sweet under that hood, there..."_  
  
_Rafe stood, transfixed, while Sam continued to touch and speak to his car as though it were a cherished lover. The smell of wet pavement, car polish, and clean, honest sweat. It was incredibly and inexplicably erotic, and he found himself drawn to Sam, until his hands were slipping up his back to his shoulders. He pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades._  
  
_"Oh ho ho, is someone feelin' left out?" Samuel murmured with a teasing little chuckle. He turned to face Rafe and wrapped his arms around him, giving his ass a squeeze. He felt so solid, so good, so right. They fit together perfectly._  
  
_For his part, Rafe ground his hips against Sam and claimed his mouth in a hot kiss. He'd wanted to escalate things, wanted to fuck Sam on the hood of the car, but it was imprudent. Even here, eyes were on them, and Rafe reined it in, drawing away with a pang of regret._  
  
_"So, baby," Sam began, as his fingertips played at the skin where Rafe's shirt was unbuttoned, "I been thinkin', we could find this treasure, you an' me. We don't need Ross and her goons."_  
  
_Rafe frowned slightly as he lifted his eyes to Samuel's face. "Shoreline is a powerful resource. The manpower alone will cut down the amount of time it will take to--"_  
  
_"We don't need any'a that," Sam insisted, dark eyes locking with Rafe's gaze. His clever fingers unfastened a few more buttons on Rafe's linen shirt. "We can do this thing, you and me, baby."_  
  
_The younger man sighed softly, eyes slipping closed as Samuel's fingers traced his chest, spreading his shirt open, teasing a nipple._  
  
_"We can ditch Nadine and it'll be just us. The way it oughta be. Think about it..." Sam whispered low, almost sensual._  
  
_"We're under contract," Rafe stressed, brow furrowing._  
  
_"Fuck the contract. Let's just ditch the bitch. Once we find that cross, we can disappear. Find Avery's treasure. Just you an' me, baby..."_


	2. Chapter 2

"Rafe? Rafe! Are you listening to me?"

He blinked up from his phone, which displayed Samuel's contact info and his favorite photo of the man, rubbing at his eyes with forefinger and thumb as he clicked it off. "We've been over this, Nadine. You can't bring armed men into the auction. You're lucky I'm bringing _you_."

"Lucky," she repeated flatly. "You're _lucky_ I'm willing to go along with this, at all. We could have had that crucifix weeks ago if you'd--"

A tap at the door silenced her a moment, then, "Yes, what is it?"

Rafe curled his hands into fists. He loathed how she did that, act as though the house was hers, as though she were in command. As though Rafe were her guest instead of the other way around.

One of Nadine's soldiers, an officer, Rafe assumed, for this man, more than any other, was putting his head together with hers to discuss this and that, opened the door and stepped in. "Word from the States, ma'am," he announced in a low, accented tenor.

"Good," Nadine replied, then cast a look over her shoulder. "We're not done here," she told Rafe. "I'll be back." And then she left with her soldier, closing the office door behind her.

Rafe slumped in his chair and clicked his phone on again. Contacts. Drake, Samuel. A brush of the thumb over Sam's little contact photo brought it fullscreen and Rafe felt a pang in his heart. It had been two full weeks since Sam disappeared, and he'd yet to call. Of course, Rafe hadn't called him, either. Oh how he wanted to. How he longed to hear Sam's voice. But what if... What if he called, and Sam told him it was over? What would he do, then?

He shuddered and clicked the phone off, tucking it into a pocket.

The auction was less than a week away, and even now, Nadine was putting pressure on him to bend to her will. He utterly refused. Whatever Sam was up to, and where ever he had gone -- Rafe was strongly suspecting he'd sought out his brother -- he had to be at the Rossi Estate. He just _had_ to be. And Rafe had every intention of cornering him there. Demanding answers. Holding him tight and never letting go again...

The door swung open, admitting Nadine again, shocking him from his thoughts. She didn't even knock anymore.

"Well, it seems you were right about Drake, at least in this," she taunted, eyes gleaming. "The artifact arrived in Italy safe and sound. It's being held under guard at Rossi."

Rafe pretended to ignore her jibe. "I told you, this is the best way. Oh, and maybe you should think about going out and getting yourself something nice to wear. This is black tie, after all." He lifted his gaze to her face, just in time to catch a narrowing of her eyes.

Then she fluttered them, smiling. "Of course."

"I'm flying out Thursday. Shall I plan for you to come with? Or did you have your own plans?" Rafe asked, placid and businesslike.

"Oh, I'm with you, Rafe," she assured. "Not letting you out of my sight."

He tried to stifle a shiver. "Alright. Be ready early."

When she'd finally gone, Rafe retreated upstairs to his room. It always seemed so cold and stark, so empty, anymore. He hated it, but also needed the memories steeped into this place like stubborn stains. Sometimes, if he closed his eyes, he could almost smell cigarettes, could almost hear Sam chuckling to himself. Could almost feel his touch, his promises of love and devotion. _Forever, baby..._ And Rafe would remind himself to wait, to trust.

This might be some sort of plan, to free them from the contract with Nadine. Though Rafe couldn't see how. He was aching for Sam, in so many different ways he wasn't even aware he could ache...

What he needed was a distraction. He went to his closet, stepping inside and perusing the selections of clothing. This was but a fraction of what he owned, of course. He didn't take his entire wardrobe with him wherever he went. And besides, it wasn't like staying in Scotland afforded many formal opportunities. Yet there were some choices, and in the case of an event he was expected to attend, Rafe would simply fly out. His white tuxedo coat caught his eye, pristine among the dark suits. A thought occurred to him, and he reached for it.

 

  
_Rafe stood before his floor to ceiling mirror, doing up the buttons on his tuxedo shirt. He caught Sam's movement in the reflection behind him, and couldn't help but smile. "You aren't dressed," he stretched out the last word, teasing and sing-song._

_Sam's large, weathered hands slipped around his waist, just as the man rested his chin on Rafe's shoulder and met his eyes in the mirror. "I like you in white," he said and pressed a kiss to Rafe's neck. His fingers began unfastening the buttons behind Rafe's._

_He uttered a soft sigh, hands falling to Sam's, covering them lightly. "And yet, here you are, removing my white shirt."_

_"Well yeah," Sam chuckled, lowering his hands to Rafe's pants, unfastening them._

_And Rafe couldn't help but smile. "This is rather counterproductive," he murmured, eyes slipping closed as Sam's hand slid inside his pants, tracing him through the thin fabric of his underwear._

_"Hey, I'm helpin'," the smile was evident in the very sound of Sam's voice. "Jus' say the word, baby, an' I'll stop."_

_"Don't!" Rafe gasped at a firm squeeze, then, "don't ever stop..."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who encouraged me to pick this story back up again. I'm sorry it took me so long! Be sure to let me know what you think! I'm already knee deep in the next chapter!!

There was a silent, palpable tension in the car from the very moment Nadine climbed in, settling in the rear seat beside Rafe. Not that he was especially interested in speaking to her, either, but Nadine's icy presence prickled at his nerves. The driver started them toward the airfield in that deafening silence. Rafe ignored it for several miles, until finally, he decided to be the adult in the car.

"Something on your mind?"

"Glad you asked," Nadine replied at once, half shifting in the seat to face him, curls swinging as she locked her eyes on his face. "The artifact is still at risk, and I don't like risk. You know we could have had it in hand months ago. Now, instead, we have to play this fool game of bidding—"

"You honestly think someone could outbid me?" Rafe was incredulous, _this again_.

"That isn't my concern. You know as well as I do that so long as the cross is exposed, it is vulnerable. If I bring my men—"

"Absolutely not. We've been over that. The discussion is over." Rafe put some bite into the words to show her just how finished he was with it.

"Then I want assurances that this fool plan will go off without a hitch," Nadine fired back, eyes smoldering. "Rein in the timetable on this bloody affair. I'll not be standing about on pins and needles all evening, only to lose the damn cross!"

They continued back and forth like that, all the way to the airfield. Rafe was getting a tension headache from the relentless attitude he was fielding, to say nothing of his own anxieties over obtaining the cross. At last he promised her he would handle things the moment they landed.

Nadine finally seemed to be pacified, then. And Rafe was granted a measure of peace for the remainder of the flight. Ear buds and Sam's favorite playlist eased his mind, if not exactly his heart. And when they landed in Italy, once they made it to the hotel, and Rafe retreated to his suite, it was for a small breakdown in the shower, where his sobs drowned in the falling water and his tears were carried away before they stained his pale cheeks.

After swaddling himself in a thick, plush robe, Rafe forwent a shave in favor of smoking cigarettes on his room's balcony. Sam's brand. They were an abhorrently cheap American generic brand, nothing like the Dunhills he favored on the very rare days he decided to smoke. But they smelled and tasted like Sam, and, in a small way, made it easier to pretend he was close. He had to believe that Sam was close.

Finally, he put on his tuxedo, the one with the white jacket—a message to Sam—styled his hair, and exited his suite. Nadine stood across the hall from his door, arms folded, dressed in sleek slacks and a sleeveless blouse, jewelry and makeup. Rafe blinked at her once, utterly unsurprised that she intended to keep close tabs on him.

"It's about time," she said coolly, turning to lead the way down the hall. "The auction started nearly twenty minutes ago."

"Calm down, Nadine. It's only the opening ceremonies and cocktails. They won't start bidding for an hour at least," Rafe answered placidly, despite his nerves keying up inside.

"And we've a drive to make," she pointed out tersely.

"Not terribly far. Listen," he caught ahold of her arm, and she rounded on him, violence in her eyes. Rafe met her stare, almost welcoming her to try something untoward. "This event isn't your average auction. This is black market, do you understand? It'll be cutthroat, and I think it best if we present a united front. I'm willing to follow your lead," he added, and watched as the malevolence faded from her dark eyes.

Nadine nodded once, sharply, and offered him a sliver of a smile. "That sounds good, Rafe," her words were just honeyed enough to be patronizing.

 

 

 

  
The Rossi Estate was pretty par for the course, insofar as venues for events the likes of which Rafe Adler attended. Architecturally, the place did not suit his tastes. _Far more the old man's style._ He mused to himself as he ascended the marble stair to the second century facade, complete with security flanked main entrance.

Nadine's heels clicked on the stone to his right, but he did not look at her. Had _no_ intention of acknowledging her. They'd had yet another heated discussion—a disagreement on the course of action Rafe had chosen, on the potential risks involved, the longer the cross remained unclaimed by him. At last, he relented, _bad business practice, being bullied into...what was essentially a compromise_ , and arranged for the cross to be moved up in the auction order. A tidy sum was transferred to an unnamed Swiss bank account to seal the deal. And while it shut his partner up for the time being, Rafe knew she was still unhappy.

Well, too bad. He was done thinking about what Nadine wanted. Tonight was about claiming another prize on the road to the big score, and finding Samuel, of course. And so he entered the not entirely grand foyer, already peopled with clusters of eurotrash, all gossiping and bragging. _Mingling_ , he reminded himself, _which you could stand to do a bit of, yourself_.

Rafe stepped into the crowded ballroom, stifling a disdainful curl of lip. These people had their places, their uses, even in some of his own dealings, yet he preferred not to interact with them on the whole. He cut straight for the bar, relaxing as he realized that Nadine went into the crowd on her own. He ordered a drink, downed it, and ordered another, before scanning the crowds for any sign of his erstwhile lover.

There was no sign of Samuel. But who Rafe did see sent an icy spike of anxiety through him: Victor Sullivan. Now, Sully on his own was little concern to Rafe; a washed up treasure hunter with nothing to show for his long years in the game. But Rafe had been introduced to him by Sam, and his brother Nathan. They worked together. And if Victor Sullivan was here, it stood to reason that he was sniffing after the cross, potentially with either of the Drakes. _Sam wouldn't betray me like that._

He made his way through the crowd, intent on Sullivan, and that was when he realized the old man was chatting amicably with Nadine. Rafe joined them and attempted to play nice, but the truth was, he was beginning to feel like a cornered animal. His anxiety was just peaking when Sully brought up the cross. The resulting scene had been unfortunate, but it couldn't be helped. Rafe's head, already spinning with his lowkey search for any sign of Samuel, shifted into overdrive at the thought that Victor Sullivan, and very likely Nathan Drake, were here and sniffing after his cross, all thanks to Samuel. Perhaps Nadine had been right to want to steal it, but Rafe refused to give up this chance at finding Sam.

And so it was that he found himself in a bidding war with Sully over the damn cross, when he finally spotted Sam— _Oh, Samuel, it's really you_ —dressed as a waiter and lingering not far away. Rafe's heart leapt into his throat, and he put a quick end to the bidding, jumping the price up several hundred thousand Euros. This needed to be done and over with so he could go to Sam.

And then the lights went out.

 

 

_Rafe blinked in the sudden darkness, pushing up from his seat at his desk, disoriented by the overwhelming silence of the house with no power. "Samuel?" Even his voice sounded small and muted by the blackness._

_"One helluva storm, ay, baby?" There was a soft orange glow outlining the office door as Sam stepped into view, holding his lighter aloft._

_"A very inopportune storm," Rafe grumped. "Who knows how much work I've just lost." He moved around his desk and to the door, where Sam's arm slipped around his waist comfortably._

_"You needed a break, anyway," Sam replied, kissing his cheek sweetly. "You got storm candles around this joint or what?"_

_Rafe sighed, nodding, and leading them toward the utility room. Well, he hardly led, with Sam pressed tight to his side and holding the lighter as their only light. They found the box of candles and Sam took them to the living room, setting about lighting them, and arranging them around the sofa._

_Once the immediate area was lit in a soft, romantic glow, Sam invited Rafe to curl up on the sofa with him, snug under a thick, fleecy blanket. At first, Rafe remained stiff and ornery, allowing his annoyance at the interruption of his work to hold sway over him until the lack of power, and therefore, heat, had him at last acquiescing the invitation. Sam immediately began nuzzling at his neck, strong arms and heated kisses chasing the chill away._

_"We'll make our own heat, baby," Sam whispered softly, guiding Rafe down into the cushions and covering him with his body, kissing him in that hungry way that gave Rafe chills down his spine and kindled a fire inside. Yes, he wanted Sam, and with very little convincing, he was prepared to strip off layers of clothing that, only scant minutes ago, he was shivering under._

_There was truly nothing like making love with Samuel, Rafe had come to understand. They connected on a level unlike that which he'd ever known before. **Fate** , Sam had called it, insisting they were star-crossed lovers. And in the throes of passion, with his beloved buried deep inside of him, all silken heat and sweet, urgent kisses, unsure where one ended and the other began, Rafe believed it. _


	4. Chapter 4

Damn if next to nothing was going according to plan! Fortunately for Sam, he had strong stubborn streak, an excellent poker face, and the ability to improvise when needed.

Nathan was the most difficult. The wife was an unwanted wildcard in all this. Sam had been banking on things falling back into they way they were before... now it seemed this broad had lured his little brother away from a life of adventure and into the monotony of mortgages and nine-to-fives. Nate wasn't gonna just jump on board with this Avery thing—not without a seriously big carrot on a stick. Sam never thought he'd see the day. Nathan was _born_ for treasure hunting, but lure of treasure wasn't gonna do it this time. So Sam did what anyone would do in a situation like this; he made up a story.

Hey, it's not like Sam _wanted_ to lie to his brother. Lying to Nathan never felt good. But sometimes, ya know, you have to coax people along before they realize what they really want. And of course Nathan wanted Avery's treasure. It was their lifetime goal, his and Sam's, since they were kids.

So the Alcazar drama was a lie, so what? Nathan would be thanking him when they finally found Avery's treasure. That was the only important thing, right? Of course it was. But every lie has to be backed up by more and more lies, and soon, Sam found it impossible to find a way to bring Rafe back into the fold. Nathan's break from him after Panama had been ugly. This was gonna be tougher than he thought.

But all Sam needed was time. He was quick and clever and would make this work, or die trying. Scratch that. No dying.

So Italy. It was kind of exciting, him and Nathan, out on a job, like the old days. Sam found himself chattering and joking, trying to settle the tension that Nate seemed bound and determined to drag with them. That was annoying. Well, that, and the fact that Nathan insisted in dragging Victor Sullivan into their business.

Now, admittedly, it'd been years since he'd last seen Victor, but Sam keenly recalled the last job they'd worked together. The one that ended with Victor pulling Nate out at the last second, leaving Sam alone to land in jail. It'd been utter bullshit. If Nate had stayed, they would have gotten the loot out together and gotten away before the cops got there.

"Come on, Sam, he's family..." Nathan said.

_Ouch. Really, Nathan? Really?_

Despite Sam trying to hide his wince, Nathan saw, and quickly said, "look, I trust him, and I'm just asking you to trust him, too."

"A'right. Fine," Sam nodded glancing away, biting his lip. "But, you gotta admit for one second—"

"There!" Nate interrupted, pointing to a distant window deeper into the estate, passing Sam the binoculars.

Sure enough, a light flickered on and off in the distance. And so they began to make their way, climbing cliffsides and the old foundation of the manse. Sneaking through a lemon grove that smelled heavenly to Sam. Dodging goons with guns. The good stuff. It felt amazing, though, being out on an adventure, working a job with Nathan. And, of course, there would be the auction. And Rafe...

As they climbed up onto the window ledge where Sullivan's signal had been, discarding their jumpsuits and smoothing their tuxes, Sam felt butterflies riot in his stomach. He turned to the nearby window, examining his reflection, tugging everything into place, smoothing his hair back. Rafe... Sam wanted to look good for him. He wanted everything to be just right. He'd surprised himself with just how much he missed Rafe.

"Hey," Nate whispered, "you okay?"

"Yeah," Sam replied at once. "How do I look?"

"Like four hundred million bucks, come on!" And then he climbed inside.

When Sam followed him in, he saw Nate and Victor embracing, and rolled his eyes away, trying not to scoff. Nate reintroduced them, and Sullivan was really pouring it on, trying to shmooze him. But Sam wasn't buying into his shit, and he made that clear, with responses clipped and cold. _Yeah yeah whatever let's just do this already._

And then they stepped out on to the mezzanine above the main ballroom, where the auction was taking place. A prime view of the auction block, as well as the massive dance floor teeming with rich assholes, all decked out for prom. But somewhere among them was Rafe. Sam knew it, could practically smell his hair product as he silently searched the crowds from above. _Whoa easy Sammy boy, don't go hallucinating._

Nathan and Victor were fussing about something, but until the moment Sam's eyes picked out the gold cross on display at the block, he hadn't bothered to listen. _Shit, the cross is already out on display. That changes everything._

"What if they see us?" Nate was saying.

"What if they don't see us? Jesus, you guys act like you never spent time in prison." Sam chuckled as they turned their eyes on him. "If you want something dirty done...then you wait for lights out." They finished together in unison.

Sam let his eyes wander again as Nate and Victor plotted the way to the electrical room. Still no sign of Rafe, but Sam knew he'd be here. He had to be here. Avery's cross was here, and they both needed it. And together he, Rafe, and Nathan, would find that treasure, just as they were meant to.

"Scusi," a feminine voice murmured, and Sam turned to find an attractive young waitress holding a tray of colorful little hors d'oeuvres. "Antipasti?" She asked, offering the tray.   
  
"Hi," Sam grinned, meeting her eyes. "How are you?" He plucked a small item from her tray.

The waitress smirked and turned away, "Ciao."

Sam's eyes fell to her pert rear in those black slacks. Until his brother gave him a little shove. "Would you pay attention?!"

"A waiter wouldn't get noticed," Sam realized, glancing back to Nate and Victor.

"Hey, that could work," Nate said thoughtfully. "That will work. Ok look, I'll make my way to the electrical room here," he pointed on the little blueprint.

"Meaning, I'm the waiter?" Sam asked, sucking a bit of pâté from his fingertips.

"You're the best pickpocket," Nathan said.

Sam nodded, and when Victor led the way for them across the mezzanine and past an exit out on to an outdoor balcony, Sam stepped out. The view offered a broad, rectangular fountain, surrounded by worked stone pillars, but Sam's eyes sought any sign of Rafe. _He had to be here somewhere._

"Hey, everything okay?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder at his brother, and nodded. "Just goin' over our exit strategy. It's gonna get hairy."  _What was one more small lie?_

"Relax, we've pulled off tougher heists than this," Nate assured him.

"Yeah I know, it's just... tryin' not to imagine what they'll do if they catch us."

"Sam, if things go bad, we'll be dead long before they catch us," Nate said, leading the way back inside.

"That's a comforting point..." Sam muttered sarcastically, following.

Victor led them down the stairs, through the grand entry hall, and into the ballroom where a bar was set up and many, many people mingled in at least a dozen different languages. But still, no sign of Rafe. It made him nervous, very unhappily so. He endeavored to remain focused, to follow Victor, to get to work, but... _What reason could there possibly be for Rafe not to come? He ...wasn't upset with Sam, was he? He had to understand. To trust._  Sam trusted Rafe with his heart and his life. The other man felt likewise, he was certain.

Victor showed them to the cellar door, and after a quick pocket pick for the keycard, they had it open. The little radio earbud things were passed out, and Sam and Nathan slipped into the cellars. Almost immediately, they heard Sully schmoozing his way through the ballroom. And Sam had to work to prevent a flinch when he heard that lilting South African accent. _Shit fuck damnit! Nadine!_ He focused on shrugging out of his jacket and undoing his tie, tucking both carefully into a box just inside the door.

"Hey Nathan, I'm ready," he said quietly, as his brother obliviously chatted with Victor about Ross and Shoreline.

As the brothers began to make their way deeper into the food storage, looking for both a path forward and a waiter whose clothes Sam could appropriate, he casually asked, "Ay, ah, should we worry that Victor's chatting up Nadine Ross? I mean, I've heard some pretty scary stories about her crew."

But of course, Nate only regaled him with more bullshit about how suave Sullivan was, and assuring him not to be concerned. Sam tried his best, not to think of what Ross would do to him if she saw him, and then it occurred to him, _Rafe would be here with her!_ Sam swallowed thickly, realizing he'd left Rafe alone with Nadine. Of course she would manage to bully her way to the auction.

By the time he and Nathan parted ways, Sam was more eager to see Rafe than grab the cross. He wriggled into the waiter uniform, frowning at the oddly snug fit. And then finally, he was heading back through the estate, toward's the main ballroom, Avery's Cross, and Rafe.

He didn't have far to go before Victor's radio feed picked back up, the old man was still flirting with Nadine. And as Sam collected a tray of champagne flutes and stepped into the ballroom, he spotted them, and quickly moved himself away from Ross's line of sight. _Easy, Sammy boy, that bitch gets one whiff of you and it's like blood in the water..._

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by a new voice on Victor's feed. " _Victor Sullivan, how the hell are you?" "Rafe." "How long has it..."_  Sam's heart was somehow in his throat, and also shooting lancing pain through his chest. _Baby..._ He carefully circled the edge of the ballroom, eyes in the direction he'd just seen Victor and Nadine, desperate for a glimpse.

And there he was, beautiful Rafe, smiling and laughing as he and Sully spoke, wearing that white tuxedo jacket that Sam always loved on him. Loved taking off of him. He suddenly ached for Rafe, but was also absolutely thrilled that Rafe wore the jacket. _For me. He had to know I'd be here. Keep believing in me, baby. Soon, we can come together again. I just need to get you away from—_

Rafe swatted Victor's glass from his hand and pointed a finger at the older man, speaking tersely through the feed. ..." _You even think about bidding on that cross and you'll be leaving in a goddamned bodybag!" "Rafe!"_ Nadine snapped at him, he'd caused a scene.

_Oh no, baby, you're so tense. All you gotta do is trust in me..._ Sam began to circle the ballroom again, eyes flicking between the cross, displayed on the block, and Rafe, who was visibly distressed, at least to Sam's familiar eye. He was trying hard to cover it, but Sam knew him too well. If only Nadine weren't right there. If only he could take him aside for just a moment and talk to him. _I should have told him. Should have left a note, or called. Baby, please just trust in me._

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please. Let us begin, our first item: an early eighteenth century gold inlaid wooden crucifix from the Trott Estate. We'll start the bidding at fifty thousand euros. Bene, fifty thousand euros, do I have sixty? Sixty thousand for the lady, do I have seventy? Thank you, seventy thousand for the gentleman, do I have eighty?"

Sam worked his way over to stand closer to the auction block, just a waiter pausing in his work while people's attentions are on the bidding. He could see Rafe clearly from here, the younger man practically aglow with the excitement of the cross all but in his grasp. _And I'm gonna snatch it right out of his fingers,_ Sam thought with a frown, glancing away before he drew attention to himself. There was no sign of Nadine, and he began to wonder where she'd gone. His gaze shifted back to Rafe. How he longed to close the distance between them, even just for a moment, close enough to inhale his scent, to brush past him. _No, he'd never be able to keep his hands to himself, and he had to get the cross away from Nadine. Once everything fell into place, Rafe would understand. Hell, he'd be so pleased that he'd probably want to reward Sam with that thing he did with his tongue—_

" _Sam, Sully, are you there?"_ Nathan spoke into his ear.

" _Goddamnit, kid! Where the hell've you been?!"_ Victor growled.

" _Hey, I made it,"_ Nate replied, _"I had a few close calls, but..."_

The three of them whispered tersely to one another before Nathan convinced Sullivan to bid against Rafe. And oh, he was not happy about that. Sam thought about their earlier encounter, and grew tense. "Nathan, I'm sweating bullets here," he said softly.

Just then, Rafe looked straight at him. Their eyes met, and what felt like an electric shock passed through the space between them. _Baby_... And then the lights went out.

 

 

 

_Sam opened his eyes, feeling chilled and a bit stiff, but otherwise, like a million bucks. Rafe was curled tightly to his side, arm snug around his waist, legs tangled with his own. Clinging, as he slept, with his hair soft in his face and a dark shadow of stubble on his cheek. He was so beautiful, and fragile, in a way Sam had never realized before._

_He had dropped all his defenses and submitted fully to Sam, trusting in him. And in the end, Sam felt, they had shared something more profound than orgasms. "Don't ever leave me," Rafe had said, and Sam had no intentions of ever doing so. Even now, with his arms wrapped around that irritating little shit, he knew that he was wrapped around Rafe's little finger. He adored Rafe._

_And Rafe... well, if it wasn't love, it was potent desire and desperate need. "Don't ever leave me..." He had allowed himself to be vulnerable, and that meant more than any words or gift or anything else._

_Slowly, Sam dipped his head to nuzzle Rafe's cheek. "Baby..." he whispered softly, "I'm crazy for you."_

_Rafe made a soft sound, an acknowledgement, before curling tighter against him. "C-cold..."_

_They were, Sam realized, still in the belfry. The heat from their sex long since dissipated, only the thick plush blanket and their shared body heat kept them from freezing in the winter night air._

_"Ya want me t'warm ya up, baby?" Sam offered, gently rocking his hips toward Rafe._

_"Hnnnnnnn... Sammy..." Rafe replied, and Sam's heart skipped a beat. God help me, I love him. And I believe he loves me, too._


	5. Chapter 5

_Nathan Drake had better be dead, or abandoning his brother’s suicide crusade, if he knew what was good for him._

To say Nadine was furious, was an almost negligible understatement. She marched through the Rossi Estate like she had every authority to be in those back hallways, efficiently making her way toward the ballroom. By the time she reached the car, with the rattle of gun fighting shaking the building behind her, she was practically quivering, trying to hold it in. She had a tirade ready for Rafe, and _oh yes, he was going to hand control of this venture over to her on a goddamned silver platter._ But as she slid into the buttery leather back seat, her words died on her lips.

Rafe sat perfectly still, so very wan and sickly looking, his pale eyes red rimmed, and pointed jaw set as though he was holding back vomit by sheer will alone. _Fragile, like the carved ivory figurines her father had given her as a child, so delicate and breakable._ He didn't look at her. He didn't seem to look at anything.

Nadine’s brow furrowed, suddenly very annoyed at how poor little Rafe had managed to take the wind from her sails. Well, she would still take control, announcing it or not. "Take us to the hotel, and then to the plane. We're leaving tonight."

"Yes, ma'am," the driver said, shifting the car into gear.

And still, Rafe said nothing. Did not even acknowledge her presence. _Was he in shock? Had he honestly believed that Drake wouldn't betray him?_ Nadine scoffed softly, and turned her gaze out the window, silently organizing her thoughts and making plans for their return. She was finished letting Rafe play at treasure hunting. Her men would knock down the entire cathedral if they had to, to find a path to the treasure.

 

 

  
Back in his hotel suite, Rafe slowly trudged toward the bedroom, shrugging out of his tuxedo. He shuddered as he did so, knees going weak, and collapsed on the plush rug just shy of the bed. Laying on the floor in a crumpled heap, Rafe felt like he was losing it. _Sam... did you really betray me? No, no this has to be some kind of plan. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you come find me?_

_Because, fool boy, it was a lie. You were wrong. You are always wrong._ The old man's voice rang out in his head, loud as if he stood before Rafe, scolding him. _So weak, gullible, and desperate. Pathetic._

Rafe's hands curled into fists, and he pushed himself upright. _No, that's not me._ He locked his jaw and scowled around the empty room. _Old ghosts can’t hurt me._ He swept a hand back through his hair, and continued changing his clothes, something practical for the flight, packing up the tux and gathering his things.

Shortly thereafter, Rafe stood outside Nadine's door, knocking. When she opened the door, eyeing him up and down, his clothes, his bags, she nodded and swung the door wide. She too had changed, into fatigues and a tshirt. A duffle sat on her room's bed.

"We're going back to Scotland," Rafe said.

"Good," she replied, grabbing her bag. "I'm ready."

They were airborn within the hour.

 

 

"Put your people to work on the ruins. Whatever we've been missing will turn up under enough eyes and hands."

Nadine arched a brow at Rafe, who had said nothing in the hour plus since collecting her from her room. _Perhaps he was finally ready to commit to locating the treasure, after all._ "I'll tell them to be more aggressive in their tactics."

She watched him turn his face away before frowning, thinking to hide it from her. But he couldn’t have been any more obvious. "If that treasure is on the cathedral grounds, we'll find it," Nadine told him, and watched as Rafe met her eyes. His were a million miles away.

"Of course we will," he said, and got up from his seat across from her in the main cabin of the plane. She didn't shift to watch as he disappeared into the private cabin at the back. Didn't give him a second glance. Nadine wasn't looking for his permission nor his approval. Rafe Adler had all but thrown away this opportunity with the secrets Drake was sure the cross would reveal, over his foolish infatuation with the man.

 

 

Alone, Rafe poured himself a stiff drink and slowly curled up in a comfortable chair in the private room. It was time to collect these fragile emotions and pack them away in the deepest, darkest hole. He needed his game face, he needed to focus, to solve the mystery before Samuel stole it out from under him— _just like that damned cross._

 

 

  
_The first time Rafe took Sam with him to a high society party, some retirement affair for a longtime colleague of the old man’s, one Rafe was required to attend on behalf of the company, he was the nervous wreck. Sure, Sam had won his heart, with his scrappy good looks and his winning charisma, but how would he fare amongst the 1%? They had spent hours in preparation, with time clocked in at both spa and tailor, polishing Sam to within an inch of his life, he’d joked. And now Rafe’s diamond in the rough was a true shining star. Why, Sam took to the crowd of Rafe’s peers like a fish to water. A very charming and handsome fish, if the ever growing circle around him was any indication._

_Rafe knew he ought to have been relieved, rather than... whatever this unfamiliar, cold, sick feeling, sitting in his gut like a stone, was. He struggled with a very strong urge to march over and take Sam’s arm possessively, showing all of those trust fund brats that Samuel Drake was taken, and exactly who by. But that was nonsense, social suicide, and besides, Rafe had work to do tonight. He was the representative of AdlerCorp. He had to present the Retiree with a plaque, and obtain some crucial signatures which traded the man’s shares back in for his generous retirement stipend. It was dirty, and the old man never soiled his hands. But this was too important to leave to anyone but his son to handle. And so, here Rafe was, standing with the plaque wrapped in a length of black silk, teeth grinding, his eyes on Sam, surrounded by a dozen giggly debutantes, as the man of the hour addressed the crowd from the first landing of his grand staircase._

_Suddenly, all was quiet, and Rafe snapped out of his focus, directing a smile up at Bartholomew Kingsford III, whose expectant eyes softened at once. He extended a hand and Rafe stood, stepping up and into the spotlight. “Thank you, Bart,” Rafe said smoothly as he stepped before the microphone. “As many of you know, Mr. Kingsford has worked for my father for many, many years. An exemplary employee who helped to build AdlerCorp from the ground up. What some of you may not know, was that he was a bookkeeper for my father’s first shop. And he made himself indispensable to the business over the years. So, Bart Kingsford, on behalf of my father and AdlerCorp, thank you, and congratulations on your well deserved retirement.” He unwrapped and presented the plaque to Kingsford, a classy, weighty block of black marble with etched glass, bearing both the company logo, and Kingsford’s full name, along with some platitudes._

_Kingsford accepted the plaque, grinning as he eyed it. “I hope this isn’t all I’m getting,” he quipped, to laughter from the assembled party goers. Rafe donned a tight smile, finding the joke to be in poor taste. His eyes flicked out to the sea of faces, seeking Sam, but unable to find him. A shock of displeasure slithered through Rafe, but he kept his mask in place, barely._

_“Come on, son, I believe we have business to discuss, yes?” Kingsford said, a hand on Rafe’s shoulder guiding him further upstairs and away from the party. They made their way to Kingsford’s study, where Rafe laid out the retirement contract._

_“I’m sure you’ll find these terms far more than satisfactory. My father appreciates all you’ve done for us, and is most generous in displaying that appreciation,” Rafe said._

_“Don’t bullshit me, boy. Your father wouldn’t give me this kind of sending if he didn’t expect something in turn. What’s hiding in the fine print?” Kingsford was done being cordial._

_“He wants you to divest yourself of your shares,” Rafe said. “This package is contingent on it.”_

_Kingsford cursed, and stomped to one side of the study, pouring himself a drink. “The bastard...” he growled._

_“I’m sure you can understand his interest in recovering these shares,” Rafe said gently._

_“As if he doesn’t already hold a controlling interest!”_

_“Let’s not make this ugly...” Rafe murmured._

 

 

_When Rafe finally exited Kingsford’s study and slowly descended the stair, he scanned the great hall with its clusters of mingling guests. Sam was still nowhere to be seen, among them. Back on the ground floor, Rafe navigated acquaintances and strangers alike, struggling to keep his polite mask in place, all the while fretting over his missing lover. I can’t believe this. How could he just let himself be drawn away?! Rafe felt sick, imagining his Sam hidden away in one of dozens of rooms, with some debutante’s legs in the air._

_He began to walk faster, pausing at closed doors, head cocked for telltale sounds of sex, grotesque imagery flitting through his imagination. Sam, how could you! And then, as Rafe passed a shadowy alcove, an arm snaked around his waist from behind, hot breath playing on his neck. “You know how long I been waitin’ t’get’chu alone?” Sam’s voice whispered from behind._

_Rafe stiffened, his nerves on edge. “Yes,” he snapped peevishly, “it certainly looked like your mind was on me,” he tried to pull away._

_Sam’s arm tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. “Aww, c’mon, baby. You don’t really think those bimbos could turn my head? Truth is, I spent more time hidin’ from them, and waitin’ fer you, than playin’ the shmooze game.” Sam nuzzled Rafe’s nape. “I got you. Ain’t nobody worth the risk of losin’ what we got, ain’t that right?”_

_Rafe went still, cheeks heating with shame. He’d been so sure that Sam was going to betray him at the first opportunity, and here the man was, all but promising to remain monogamous. Did people actually do that? Did Sam want that with him?_

_“Besides,” Sam continued, “you look sooo hot in that suit. I been thinkin’a nothin’ but gettin’ you outta that thing.” Sam’s hand slid back across Rafe’s belly and lower, fingers deftly unfastening his slacks._

_“Sam!” Rafe hissed, cheeks heating again, this time bashfully as his eyes darted around the crowded room. “Someone will see!”_

_“Yeah, I thought that might be an issue. But when I was hidin’, I found a nice, private place where we can play.” Sam guided Rafe along and toward a door standing ajar, a dim light showing beyond._

_As it turned out, the door led to something of a game room, and Sam guided him toward the far end where stood a billiards table. “This way, baby,” Sam murmured, between soft kisses to Rafe’s neck, his ears, sensitive skin aflame with the sensations._

_Rafe turned in his arms, wrapping his own about Sam’s neck. “You know how I feel,” he began, unable to make the words come. “I just... I can’t lose you, Sam.”_

_Sam’s hands gently cupped Rafe’s face. “Where’s this comin’ from? I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Is this still about those girls? You gotta know you’re all I want.” He met Rafe’s pale eyes for a long moment, then kissed him deeply until Rafe was breathless. “Tell you what,” Sam said, after several more kisses, “I’m gonna make you mine, right here,” Sam told him, patting the billiards table with a hand._

_Rafe wet his lips, and then hopped up to have a seat on the edge of the table. Sam grinned and pressed closer, sliding Rafe’s jacket off and loosening his tie. Rafe’s hands worked at Sam’s tie and shirt as well, helping to divest him of his clothes. Soon, Sam was grinding his hips between Rafe’s thighs, kissing him hungrily, demanding._

_Rafe groaned and arched his back, pushing back against Sam. “What makes you think—mmmahh!—I would allow... you to fuck me, here in Kingsford’s house? The scandal alone—ohhh fuck, Sam, yesssss,” his tough act melted into hungry moans as Sam’s erection pressed through their clothes and against his own, insistently._

_“What was that, baby?” Sam asked, gently urging Rafe to lay back on the table, working Rafe’s slacks down over the curve of his ass and off. He guided Rafe’s thighs up against his chest, and leaned down to breathe hotly against Rafe’s straining cock._

_“I... I said.... Saaaam!!”_

 


End file.
